The Night Killer

by Beverly Connor

  “Sorry I’m so late,” said Diane.

  “How’s Andie?” asked Neva. “She was so sad when she was with us.”

  “Still sad. She really fell for Liam,” said Diane.

  “So, Diane, David just updated us on the latest big event in your life while we were gone,” said Mike. “It left us speechless.”

  The waitress came and they gave their orders. As they waited for their food, Neva, Mike, and Jin asked Diane several questions about the events surrounding the Barre and Watson murders and about Slick and Tammy. It turned out to be a good review for her of what had happened and what she knew, but Diane wasn’t sure she had any clearer understanding of it all. She was still stumped. She almost had too much information, but not enough of the right information. Maybe Sunday, she thought.

  “Have you tested the paint transfer from my SUV?” Diane asked David.

  “It’s from a 1997 red Chevy Blazer,” he said. “I’ve been in touch with Garnett. They haven’t found anything that fits the description. He’s in contact with the surrounding counties and said he’d call if they find anything. He has an APB out, but you know how that is. We’ve gone over your vehicle. Nothing new. I’m sorry I don’t have any information for you.”

  “I didn’t really expect anything. It wouldn’t surprise me if it turned out to be stolen,” said Diane.

  “Where do you want your SUV to go now?” asked David.

  “Derk’s Garage,” said Diane. “I’m going to be paying for it myself. My insurance is already out of sight.”

  “What happened with your SUV?” asked Neva.

  Diane told them about the maniac who had played chicken with her.

  “Oh my goodness!” said Neva. “Is it about the murders, you think?”

  “I don’t know,” said Diane. “I don’t know much of anything.”

  Diane was starting to get depressed. She wished Andie had come to dinner with them. She hated thinking of her being alone. But, then again, maybe some alone time was what she needed. Diane turned to David.

  “I did get hold of Jonas, and he remembered what was in the cigar box I told you about from the Barres’ house.”

  “The box you believe was taken by the killer,” said David.

  “Yes. Jonas remembered the contents better than their kids did,” Diane said. She described the objects for David. “I think it must have been just a souvenir for the killer,” she said. “I can’t think of anything in it that would be worth stealing.”

  “Jonas described one of the marbles as looking like confetti?” said David.

  “Yes,” said Diane.

  “Oh God. I’ll bet you have a marble database, don’t you?” said Neva.

  “Doesn’t he have a database on everything?” said Jin.

  “Yes,” said David, “I do have a database on marbles. I happen to have collected marbles at one time in my life, and I maintain an interest. And please, I’ve heard every joke, multiple times.”

  David turned to Diane. “From the description, it may be a confetti mica marble. If it’s what I’m thinking of, it could be about a hundred and fifty years old.”

  “Wow,” said Jin. “How much would it be worth?”

  “Somewhere between five and ten thousand dollars,” David said.

  Chapter 36

  “Do you think that’s what the killer was after?” asked Mike. His frown showed skepticism. The ice clinked in his glass as he finished his iced tea and set the glass down on the table.

  “Marbles?” said Neva. “That’s awful. Oh please, don’t let me ever be murdered for my marbles.”

  “That would mean that whoever killed them knew what was in the box and the value of it,” said Jin. “Maybe the Barres didn’t even know they had something valuable.”

  “And there’re the Watsons,” said David. “Did they have something valuable in their home that was spotted by the killer? We’re still missing something—a lot of somethings.”

  That was the whole problem, thought Diane. She simply couldn’t find a motive that fit all the victims. The only one that made sense for both the Barres and the Watsons was their joint desire for land development, allowing for more progress in the county. That seemed a very weak motive—but people had been murdered for lesser reasons.

  The waitress came with their meals and they settled into discussing Neva and Mike’s recent trip to Africa. It left Diane anxious to see all the photographs they took. It also left her wanting to drop the entire murder case. She would have, if she thought the authorities in Rendell County were up to the task.

  Diane was awakened by Frank shaking her shoulder. She looked at the clock. It was early and he was already dressed.

  “You have to go to work already?” she mumbled.

  “Ben called,” he said.

  “I didn’t hear the phone.” She managed to get to a sitting position.

  Frank sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed her hair out of her eyes.

  “He called my cell,” he said. “They picked up Tammy and Slick just outside Rosewood. The GBI is having Ben and me do the interview here in Rosewood. Want to watch?”

  Diane jumped out of bed. “Yes. Definitely.” Finally, the promise of some closure.

  Diane had never seen Frank interview a suspect. This was going to be interesting on many counts. She stood in the observation room between GBI agent Gil Mathews and Chief Garnett. Gil Mathews was a friend of Frank’s. Diane had heard Frank speak of him many times. Gil was a tall, thin man with silver hair and nice clothes. Chief Garnett, a snappy dresser himself, was watching because he was interested in any case that Diane was involved in.

  They had Slick in a separate room away from Tammy. Ben said he and Frank liked to keep the weaker witness waiting. He said by the time you got around to interviewing them, they often were more than willing to talk.

  In the interview room Tammy Taylor was sitting on a chair at a metal table with her arms folded across her chest.

  “You got that skinny bitch watching?” She shot a finger at the two-way mirror.

  Agent Mathews and Chief Garnett both looked at Diane and smiled.

  “She doesn’t like you, does she?” said Mathews.

  “Apparently not,” said Diane.

  Tammy had signed the waiver saying she understood her rights and knew the interview was being recorded. She appeared confident and relaxed.

  “Would you like something to drink?” said Ben.

  “So I’ll fill up my bladder and admit to anything just to get to go pee? No, thank you. I’m just fine. Let’s get this over with so I can get out of here. It wouldn’t work anyway. I’d just as soon sit in my own piss as to let you thugs get by with that kind of abuse,” she said.

  Frank was sitting in a chair a few feet away from the table with his legs crossed and arms folded. He had a briefcase at his feet. Ben sat closer to the table with both feet flat on the floor, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Both looked comfortable and amused.

  “Miss Taylor,” said Ben, “we have no desire to have you uncomfortable. If you need to visit the ladies’ room at any time, you only need to let us know and we’ll have that nice policewoman escort you.”

  “Let’s just get this over with,” she said.

  “Do you know why you’re here?” asked Ben.

  “It has something to do with that stupid bitch who got hysterical over a tree falling on her car,” said Tammy.

  “Close,” said Ben. “It’s about what was in the tree that fell on Dr. Fallon’s vehicle.”

  “Our sheriff said it was some real old skeleton of a kid,” said Tammy. “We didn’t even know it was there. We thought it was our Halloween decorations she saw. You got no reason to drag me in here over that,” she said.

  “We offered to allow you to call a lawyer,” said Ben.

  “I don’t need to be paying no lawyer. They’re as crooked as you. You got nothing to hold me or Slick on,” she said.

  “Actually, I misspoke,” said Ben. “It’s not abo
ut the skeleton in the tree; it’s about Norma Fuller.”

  Diane saw Tammy’s eyes flicker for just a moment. “What about her?” said Tammy.

  “You know her?” said Ben.

  “Of course I know her. I was taking care of her. Good care too,” said Tammy. “I’m a nurse and I take care of people. Miss Norma had a real nice room, and her own bathroom. I had a program all worked out for her to get her health back.”

  “You’re a nurse?” said Ben. “Where did you go to school?”

  “Regency Tech,” she said. “Near Atlanta.”

  “I don’t believe they have a nursing program,” said Ben. “Do they, Frank?”

  “No,” Frank said.

  “They have a medical program for nurses’ aides,” said Tammy, lifting her chin just a fraction. “I’m just as good as them that went to a full-blown nursing school.”

  “Tell us about this program you had worked out for Norma Fuller,” said Frank.

  “It was a good program. It had exercise—nothing hard. Light exercises that she could sit down in a chair and do. Nutritious meals. And lifestyle exercises.”

  “Lifestyle exercises?” said Frank, raising his eyebrows.

  “You know—laughter, being around baby animals, that kind of thing,” she said.

  “She could have been allergic to animals,” said Frank.

  “She wasn’t. I wouldn’t have let her handle the puppies if she was allergic. I’m a nurse,” she said.

  “So you did make an effort to fashion specific programs for different patients?” said Frank.

  “Yes,” she snapped. “I told you, I’m as good a nurse as those that went to other schools.”

  “So, you had other patients,” said Frank.

  “Yes . . .” She stopped.

  “Nice,” said Agent Mathews to no one in particular.

  “Tell us about the other patients,” said Ben.

  “They were just people like Miss Norma. I got them on their feet so they could go about their business,” she said.

  “What were some of their names?” asked Ben.

  Tammy squirmed in her seat. “I can’t recall their names right now.”

  Diane noticed Tammy’s voice was different. Not as sure, not as feisty. She knew she’d made a mistake. Diane expected her to lawyer up, but she didn’t. Probably thought that would make her look guilty.

  “Maybe we can help,” said Ben. “Frank, can you jog her memory?” Ben smiled at Tammy. “I have a bad memory for names too,” he said.

  Frank reached in the briefcase and pulled out a file. Tammy stretched her neck toward Frank as if that might help her see what was in the file.

  “Greta Mullsack,” said Frank. “Does that ring a bell?”

  Tammy shrugged her shoulders.

  “By shrugging your shoulders do you mean you don’t remember?” asked Ben.

  “I don’t remember the name,” she said.

  “How about Alicia Green, Linda Meyers, Johanna Evans, or Ruby Marshall?” Frank asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Tammy.

  “You know, Norma Fuller is very anxious about her money,” said Ben. “She told us you took her to a bank and had your name put on a joint account with hers and had her check automatically deposited into that account. Why would you put your name on the account?” he said.

  “I had to buy her medicine,” said Tammy. “All Norma has to do is take my name off the account.”

  “That’s the problem,” said Ben. “She doesn’t know which bank you took her to and she doesn’t know your real name.”

  “I can’t help it if she can’t remember,” said Tammy.

  “You know she has health problems. Wasn’t that why you were taking care of her?”

  Tammy didn’t say anything.

  “Tell me about Terry Tate, Theresa Thomas, and Tracy Tanner,” said Frank.

  Tammy looked from Frank to Ben and licked her dry lips. She was breathing a little heavier. She still didn’t ask for a lawyer.

  “Shall I repeat the names?” asked Frank.

  Tammy shook her head, but said nothing.

  “She’s trying to think of a way out of this,” said Garnett.

  “You know, Miss Taylor,” said Ben, “my partner, Frank, here is really good with computers and data.”

  “So,” said Tammy.

  “He loves cross- referencing, correlating”—Ben flourished his index finger in the air—“all those things you do with data.”

  “I don’t understand anything you just said,” said Tammy.

  “I don’t understand a lot of it, but bottom line . . .” said Ben. “Well, you tell her, Frank.”

  “It’s like this,” said Frank. He still sat comfortably in the chair as he spoke. “All those places where you volunteered keep records. Banks keep records. You see where I’m going with this?”

  “No,” said Tammy.

  “The shelters and clinics keep files on the people they see and their medical conditions—and any income they have. They also keep track of the referrals to specialists, and the volunteers who work with their clients—like nutrition or life-skills consultants. That would be you. They keep those records because they apply for grants and they have to show how their programs are serving the community.

  “Pre-nine-eleven, we had a harder time getting information from banks. But much to the disapproval of people like Dr. Fallon, for example, we can now get a lot of data from banks that used to be private. So I plug names in the computer from the service agencies, like the clinics where you volunteered, and then ask the computer to find the same names on bank accounts. Then I do fancier things, like look for those names on bank accounts that have two people on the account. Then I look and see if one of the names is Tammy Taylor or Terry Tate. Then I do it in reverse—find who has an account with Tammy Taylor or Terry Tate. Sounds complicated, but it’s really very simple. It’s amazing the information I find.”

  “I’m always amazed,” said Ben.

  Frank pulled several pages from the file and put them in front of Tammy. Each had a small photo paper- clipped to it.

  “The thing I like about Frank,” said Ben, “is he puts together a complete package when he’s working on a project. Aren’t those photographs neat, all clipped to those bank accounts? Prosecutors like that too. They like things tied up in a bow the way Frank does them.”

  “Them’s not me,” said Tammy, nodding at the photographs. Her voice was sounding hoarse.

  “That’s another post- nine-eleven thing,” said Frank. “Many more cameras in banks. And you notice how the banks don’t allow you to wear sunglasses inside? That’s so the cameras get a good picture that can be run through face-recognition software if we need to do that. Those wigs you wore didn’t really hide who you are, because the distance from the corner of your eyes to the margin of your nose, and so forth, is always the same.”

  Diane saw Tammy’s lower lip tremble.

  “Now tell us, Miss Taylor,” said Frank, “where did you put the other bodies? Surely you don’t have that many hollow trees on your property.”

  Chapter 37

  Tammy Taylor sat straight in her chair, her wide gaze darting from Ben to Frank to somewhere between them.

  “I didn’t kill nobody,” she said. “And you can’t prove I did.”

  “Prove?” said Ben. “We only have to build a sound circumstantial case. We’ve already done that. We did that before you got here. Poor Norma Fuller’s in the hospital, her blood pressure sky- high, malnourished. You giving her those energy drinks.”

  “They’re from the drugstore. Off the shelf. They’re not drugs. You can’t say I gave her drugs,” she said.

  “And you thought giving her energy drinks was okay?” said Ben.

  “They’re vitamins. You can read on them. They’re vitamins is all,” she said.

  “Not all,” said Ben. “They spike your blood pressure. Now, for a woman with high blood pressure already, well, it’s what they call—what’s the word, Frank
?”

  “Contraindicated,” said Frank.

  “That’s it. A woman who’s as good as a full-blown nurse would know that. See what we’re talking about?” he said.

  Diane noticed that Tammy didn’t seem to be aware that she’d just admitted administering the drink to Norma Fuller. There was still a lot of uncertainty as to what part the drink played in Fuller’s condition, but until now it was only a guess what Tammy had been giving her.

  “I want a lawyer,” she said.

  “You can have one,” said Ben.

  Frank stood up and scooped up the pages and began putting them in the briefcase.

  “Oops,” he said, looking down at the pages, “I forgot to show you the account we found in Savannah—the one under the name Sarah Gleeson. That’s quite a bit of money you’ve been socking away. And these CDs, well, I’m impressed.”

  Tammy glared at him. Her eyes suddenly took on a sheen, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “If I were you, I’d ask your lawyer to make a deal,” said Frank. He and Ben left the room.

  “Will you be arresting her?” asked Garnett.

  “We have enough to hold her on fraud,” said Agent Mathews.

  Frank and Ben walked through the door. Diane took another look at Tammy sitting at the table, silently crying.

  “I think she’ll deal,” said Ben. “Frank pulled the rug out from under her there at the end. That money in Savannah and her CDs were her security. She thought she always had that to fall back on. That was a blow.”

  He looked through the two-way window at Tammy sobbing.

  “I’m sure she thought it was hidden,” added Ben. “She periodically took money out of one of her accounts as Tess Trueheart, or whatever name she was using, and went to Savannah and deposited it in person as Sarah Gleeson—a name with no ties to her other selves—no fancy name games.”

  “How did you find it?” asked Garnett.

  Ben pointed to Frank, who shrugged.

  “It wasn’t hard. I found out where she took regular trips—from gas charges on her credit cards—and made a network map. Savannah was the hub. I sent her photograph to the banks in the area. She used Internet cafés to buy her CDs. Fortunately for us, she used a credit card there too.” He shrugged again.